Mey-Rin's Day Off
by casey820
Summary: The maid of the Phantomhive House must find ways to occupy herself when she's not working. Smut/Lemon. Not for kids. Chapter 2/4.
1. Chapter 1: Poor Bird

Mey-rin knew exactly the type of day it would be.

She made her way down the hallway as she had so many times before, and learning from all those mornings past, she knew precisely when her pace needed to change. Finally she had it figured out. She removed her glasses and began the trek.

Two steps past the boiler room only the area to the right of the tenth board was safe. Four metres beyond that and she had to hug the outer wall for six full paces. Then back to the left, even though it was tougher to traverse, because as she approached the doorway she could not risk being spotted. Then the most tricky part: The kitchen entrance itself. Balancing on one foot to consolidate her weight, she positioned her hands on the door frame just above her nose and below her waist. When she felt secure, she slowly leaned over, taking care to keep her breathing even and silent.

There before her, just far enough to make out clearly, was the object of her affection. Black hair glistening in the morning sun, chiseled forearms peeking from under rolled-up sleeves as he methodically scrubbed the breakfast dishes. She felt her heart rate rise as she watched him moving back and forth, again and again. In her mind those hands were on her and that flawless face looking down, and in that moment a single bead of sweat began to form on his forehead, the exertion taking its toll just as if he were inside -

"Mey-rin?" Sebastian said sharply without turning from the dish water.

 _Damnit, how does he always know?!_ she thought in dismay. She hadn't made a sound!

"Why are you here?" his cold tone rang through her as she suddenly felt like the biggest dummy alive, still perched on one foot, straining her body, mind and soul for this man who stood there oblivious to her desires, indifferent to her intentions. He had yet to turn around, paying more mind to a sink full of soapy porcelain than the living human who would rip her heart out of her chest and hand it to him if it would make him love her.

"I..." she stammered, "I've come to fetch water for the laundry, as I always do," she said, taking a few steps into the kitchen and picking up a washbasin while trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Oh," Sebastian said, finally turning to face her, his crimson gaze making her instantly forget all of her misgivings, "then I suppose you've forgotten it's your day off?"

Mey-rin stopped in her tracks. She _had_ forgotten, and suddenly felt an even bigger fool than before. She was so distracted she did not even see the butler slide up beside her to take the washbasin, but she did notice when his exposed fingers brushed against hers. All of a sudden it occurred to Mey-rin that she had never before felt Sebastian's skin against her own, and she looked up at him with a wide-eyed mixture of astonishment and horror.

"Why don't you look after yourself for today, my dear?" he said, "I can take care of the laundry and your other duties." His eyes seemed to sparkle and his lips formed a slight smile, as if he was a bit amused at the situation, but not in an unkind way (for it seemed he was never intentionally unkind).

"Oh yes!" she exclaimed, releasing the basin and stepping back, "thank you, mister Sebastian!" and with that she flew through the doorway much too quickly to catch the butler's chuckle at her exit.

"Idiot, idiot, idiot!" Mey-rin repeated, walking down the hallway, now completely indifferent to the creaks of the floorboards. What is she to do with a day off, anyway? It's not as if she had anywhere to go.

She was so absorbed in her own thoughts she almost missed the voices radiating from the pantry.

"'I am sure I have the intellect to function in polite society, contrary to your implication', Webster states assuredly."

"Oh? Then why can't you tell the difference between a wild pigeon and a damn meal?!"

"'A wild pigeon would have been a _good_ meal, while this one was just average,' Webster says, making a very valid point."

"That's it, I'm not arguing with a goddamn snake! And why do you have to add those stupid comments after everything it says?"

"'Your categorization of myself as an 'it' is both hurtful and grammatically problematic,' Webster reminds helpfully."

"Helpful, are you serious?!"

At this, Mey-rin heard Bard's distinctive stomp approaching the pantry door from within. Not wanting to be discovered eavesdropping, her impulse was to bolt, but there was no time to go anywhere. Just as she hugged the wall, the footsteps came to a stop.

"If you really want to be helpful, why don't you or your snakes or whoever the hell I'm talking to find me another high-quality bird for the young master's pigeon pie tonight!"

The doorknob began to turn and Mey-rin stiffened in place.

"Wait!"

For a few seconds there was complete silence. Then Bard started speaking again, but his anger seemed to disappear.

"What do you mean... wait?"

"..."

"Shouldn't it be, 'Webster says'? Or Emily or Bronte or any of the rest of them?"

"No. Please wait. I want to help, if I can."

Mey-rin's eyes widened when she realized what was happening. For months now the servants had debated whether or not that strange new footman could _ever_ speak for himself. Now it seemed they had an answer. She struggled to get closer when she realized they were still talking, but quietly.

"...Okay, that might work. But I need to ask you something. Why did you choose to speak to _me_ , and why now?"

Snake's voice was much more difficult to hear.

"...saw you...in the kitchen...needed a friend as well..."

"How did you know I would be interested?" Baldroy asked.

"I know in the military..." Snake's voice drifted off and Mey-rin moved dangerously close to the door, only now realizing Bard had left it slightly open. Hearing some movement inside, she inched even closer. When she finally spotted them she need to cover her mouth to keep silent.

Bard had his hand around Snake's waist as the other man was slowly kissing his neck.

 _What in the world is this?_ Mey-rin thought. Just a moment ago the chef wanted to strangle him.

Suddenly she almost lost her balance as the door seemed to open itself a few inches. She needed to clamp her hand to her mouth even tighter when she realized why. Webster, Bronte and Emily exited the room in single file, not paying any mind to the nervous maid huddled by the wall.

The sound of a jar crashing to the floor brought Mey-rin's attention back to the pantry. When she looked through the doorway again, the two men were in a passionate embrace.

Without warning, Bard pushed Snake up against the shelving, pinning his right arm above his head. The footman used his left hand to undo Bard's pants, and with a quick motion he had his whole ass exposed. The chef paused in surprise and Snake quickly licked his finger and stuck it inside. As he moved back and forth, Bard reached out to anchor himself and instead sent a jar of pickles crashing to the floor.

Snake kissed his chin deftly and as Bard moaned in pleasure, he freed his right hand and started to play with the chef's balls, all while slipping his finger in and out of his ass. Bard was close to coming already, and suddenly he grabbed Snake's hair roughly. The younger man looked back at him, surprised, half expecting the next action to be painful, but instead the chef started kissing him lightly. First on the side of his head, then on the cheek, and finally on his lips, but ever so gently.

Without a word, the cook sank to the floor and in one motion, slipped Snake's pants down to his knees. His member was hard and wet with precum, and Bard wasted no time taking it in his mouth. Snake cried out in delight, and reached for the wall to steady himself, but instead knocked another four jars to the ground.

Mey-rin watched all of this in disbelief, all the while faintly aware of the wet spot forming between her thighs.

Snake's penis was much larger than she would have imagined, but Bard took it all with no difficulty. At first Snake was gentle, but seeing what the chef could handle and how badly he wanted it, the footman was soon fucking his mouth with full force. His balls smacking off of Bard's chin, Snake held it in for as long as he could, and when he could take no more he exploded straight down the chef's throat.

As he pulled out he was still leaking drops of cum, which Bard wiped away with his fingers. Rising from the ground and spinning Snake around, he used his lubricated fingers to enter the footman's ass. First one, then two, all the while watching Snake's reaction. Finally he extracted his own rock-hard member, but instead of inserting it, he dragged it lightly between the other man's ass cheeks, savouring the moment.

Snake leaned heavily on the shelving, sending a few more containers crashing to the floor. He closed his eyes, halfway between agony and ecstasy, and begged of his gruff American partner, "well? What are you waiting for?"

Bard chuckled, "What is it that you want me to do?"

"Fuck me!" Snake groaned, and with that the chef entered him, a little bit deeper each time. The footman inhaled in pleasure and hung on tighter and tighter with each successive pounding. Bard reached to the front and cupped his partner's balls, finally getting a grip on his unit and milking it with his hand, all while taking the young man from behind. Snake cried out so loudly Mey-rin thought it would draw attention for sure, but if they would be discovered, then so would she, as she could not take her eyes off the men.

Bard continued to fuck harder and faster, all while working the footman's cock from the front. The entire shelving unit started to beat against the wall in rhythm with them, jars and canisters falling to the left and the right of the oblivious pair. The chef was going to come soon, and his right hand worked furiously at the younger man's shaft, right up until the point where Snake orgasmed once again, and Bard simultaneously released himself deep inside his partner.

Exhausted, they disengaged and spent a moment breathing and wiping away sweat. "You may want to get that, too" Bard said, pointing at the white splatter over last week's pickles.

Mey-rin froze. A noise from down the hall, is that Sebastian coming from the kitchen with a tray of tea and sweets? She didn't want to be caught anywhere near this scene.

Bard and Snake must have heard the noise too because in the pantry she heard excited whispers and the sound of the men quickly dressing. Even worse than Sebastian finding her would be the two of them learning of her penchant for voyeurism.

She would never have time to reach the far end of the hall, and all the other doors in this area were locked, so Mey-Rin did the only thing she could think of: She slid open the nearest window and jumped.


	2. Chapter 2: The Huntress

Mey-Rin pulled herself through the window without looking back. Now to anyone who asked, she was simply walking along observing the garden behind the manor. _The roses_ are _coming along nicely_ , she thought, as she recalled the image of Bard repeatedly thrusting himself into Snake against a wall of precariously-balanced food storage containers.

She continued to wander into the wooded area behind the building, still contemplating the coupling of the chef she had known for three years and the footman she only just met. How long had they shared an attraction, each of them imagining the other touching his naked body?

Soon her imagination took over, and she leaned against a tree, closing her eyes and replaying the scene in her head. Instead of the two men, the maid started to picture Sebastian, caressing her breast with one hand and her thigh with the other, then roughly pinning her up against the pantry shelving. The wet spot between her legs returned, but instead of ignoring it, she reached beneath her apron and began slowly massaging her clit. Before long her hand began to pick up speed, back and forth, imagining the butler pushing himself inside her.

When she could stand it no more, Mey-Rin propped one of her legs against a log and lifted her dress entirely. Slipping past her damp undergarments, she stuck two fingers inside herself as deep as they would go. She pushed harder and faster, wishing that Sebastian would fill her up just once. As her fingers pounded inside her the rest of her hand smacked against her vulva rhythmically, over and over until -

The tree seemed to explode just above her head.

Mey-Rin hit the ground reflexively.

An arrow had hit the tree less than a metre above her! Her glasses still in her pocket, she scanned the woods for signs of an enemy, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Quickly she composed herself, ashamed and exasperated at her own lack of vigilance. _Now you've allowed the whole manor to be endangered just so you could get off, you dirty whore._

Her keen eyes quickly searched the forest, desperate to find the source of the attack. She retrieved the pistol she kept strapped to her right leg at all times.

Another arrow just barely missed her head, but this one from _behind_ her. _Impossible_ , Mey-Rin thought in a panic. No one ever got past when she was keeping watch. Suddenly she spotted something, a flash of dark green that did not quite belong in the woods. She aimed and shot, but it was pointless, the attacker was already gone. Hand to hand combat was not the maid's preferred approach, but in this case it couldn't be helped. Her master must be protected at all costs.

She darted between trees and hurdled over obstacles as quickly as her legs would carry her, all while barely making a sound as the training she received so many years ago came back in a flurry.

Inside the house and with her glasses on, she was a different Mey-Rin – a helpless and lost girl needing an identity and a set of protectors. Her young master gave her a roof and a purpose; Sebastian made her feel safe and accepted. Both showed her kindness and patience like she had never known, and it was precisely what she needed, because maintaining her superior sense of awareness at all times was impossible. But now, out here, she embraced all of the things that comprised the _real_ Mey-Rin, and the acute animalistic instinct which made her a skilled assassin took over once again.

Within a minute she had reached the spot where she saw the foreign colour, but there was no sign of anyone. The maid studied the ground and a shiver ran through her when she realized that whoever shot those arrows knew as well as she did – perhaps even better – how to navigate the forest floor without leaving a trace of their presence.

One metre at a time, Mey-Rin made her way through the woods, her frustration increasing with every step. The sun rose high above as she continued along wearily, losing hope but not willing to give up the search for the mysterious intruder who clearly meant her harm. Suddenly her thoughts turned to her young master – what if this assassin got around her again and was able to approach the manor? Deriding her lack of diligence once again, she spun around in the direction of home, but in her haste her left ankle caught the sharp edge of a broken log.

She cried out in pain, knowing at once that the cut was deep. Cursing her eyes which refused to see what was right in front of her, she sat on the ground to examine the damage. Blood poured from the wound and she realized immediately that it would need to be cleaned and bandaged to prevent infection. As much as she worried about the Phantomhive household, she would be of no use to anyone dead. There was a stream less than a kilometre to the west, and she knew this must be her destination.

It was past noon by the time she reached the water. She was now no longer on the manor's property and she had all but given up on finding the attacker. As the current rushed past, Mey-Rin took a seat on a rock and removed her boot and sock to clean her ankle, but her livery kept getting in the way. Holding back the bottom of her skirt did little good, and finally the maid had enough and she stood and in frustration stripped off all of her clothing down to her underwear. Sitting for a second time, she splashed cold water on her injury as hot tears stung her eyes. _How could I be so incompetent?_ She wondered.

"Have you not learned your lesson?" a sharp female voice asked from behind her, somehow even more harsh and demanding than her own conscience.

Mey-Rin jumped so high she almost landed in the water.

When she spun around a bow was raised and an arrow pointed straight at her head. She was helpless, standing there as a nearly naked and injured hostage.

"You..." she stuttered, "you're the one who was attacking the manor!"

The woman scoffed, "Attacking the manor, are you mad?" she took a step closer while looking Mey-Rin dead in the eyes. "What I was doing was delivering a warning to a perverted little maid who chose to pleasure herself openly in a wood _where children play_." her tone was laden with contempt but the corners of her mouth seemed to turn up in the curious beginnings of a smile.

Mey-Rin was utterly horrified and red as a beet. "I... uh..."

"And now I see you've decided to bathe yourself publicly as well?"

"It's not like that!" the maid said, indignation giving her courage to speak. "I was simply cleaning my wound in the river," she stated, pointing down.

The older woman thought for a moment and narrowed her eyes, glancing for only the briefest second at the injured ankle. "Do you know who I am, girl?"

The maid squinted and tried to make out the woman's features. She _did_ seem familiar, but not precisely identifiable. She was pretty, Mey-Rin thought, and the hunting jacket and knee-high boots she wore accentuated her toned figure.

After a few seconds of consideration the woman sighed and finally lowered her bow. "If you're going to be cleaning it, you ought to do it properly."

Before the maid could object, the blonde stranger had sheathed her weapon and was approaching, removing her gloves. "Sit," she commanded simply as she turned to retrieve something from her pack.

Every movement this woman made was smooth and confident and graceful, and Mey-Rin stood transfixed for a moment before forcing herself from her stupor, "I can do it just fine on my - "

With that, a sure hand was on her arm, gentle enough to not be threatening but firm enough to be deliberate. When the intruder spoke, now face-to-face with the restless maid, her voice revealed the same curious fusion of softness and rigidity.

"Those who cannot accept help in a time of need display neither strength nor wisdom." Her hand had made its way onto Mey-Rin's shoulder, and now ventured higher, brushing her neck before sharply tilting her chin to force eye contact from her red-headed prey. The maid let out a light gasp and began to pull away, but the woman held her tight and continued, "how is it that you expect to care for others if you are too arrogant to adequately maintain yourself? Now _sit_." Her eyes were hard but kind, her jaw clenched at the annoyance of having to repeat an order.

With that, Mey-Rin half-stepped and half-fell backward onto her previous spot on the rock.

The woman was satisfied with this response and turned to the stream, pulling an empty jug from the side of her pack and filling it with water.

After the first round of washing, the maid expected to feel a bandage, but instead the stranger retrieved a small bottle and emptied it straight into the cut. Mey-Rin winced in distress and surprise. "This will disinfect it," the other woman explained patiently, steadying the leg in front of her to prevent any further cringing.

As she leaned over, Mey-Rin could not help but notice the V shape where the older woman's neckline began to plunge, a button undoing itself as she stretched. Beads of sweat trickled between her cleavage and the maid's eyes followed, engrossed in their path and intrigued with their destination. She had never been attracted to a woman before, but now she noticed the same tingling between her thighs she had felt watching the two men in the pantry.

"You're breathing awful heavily there, everything all right?"

Mey-Rin gasped, instantly self-aware. The blonde woman's gaze met her own, her steely grey eyes boring into the maid's soul. After a two-second stare that seemed closer to an eternity, she resumed her work tending the wound, now removing a bandage from her pack. As she wrapped the injured ankle, she placed one hand on the younger woman's calf to steady herself. Mey-Rin wondered how she could get that hand to move further up her thigh. When the dressing was complete, the stranger began to gather her things.

"Are you married, ma'am?" Mey-Rin blurted out, instantly aware of how random it was.

The woman's eyes met hers once again, but this time they did not divert so quickly. "Is that really what you want to ask me?"

"Well, I thought – I didn't – "

"Why are you doing that?"

Mey-Rin stopped mid-sentence.

"Why are you babbling like an incompetent idiot when I can tell you are so much more?"

The maid's eyes widened, and the stranger's hand began to slide up her right leg as if she had been reading her mind. She reached around Mey-Rin's thigh, giving her muscle a light squeeze, all without breaking eye contact. "Are you telling me a mere maid needs to be _this_ fit? When you were tracking me in the forest, were those skills you gleaned while washing dishes or waxing floors? When you shot at me," she gestured to a hole on the shoulder of her hunting jacket where Mey-Rin's bullet has grazed the fabric, "was it your time in the garden or the kitchen that taught you to aim that way?" She was sarcastic, suspicious and facetious all at once. Her eyes twinkled in delight as she continued staring, now just a few feet from the younger woman's face.

Mey-Rin should have felt vulnerable, she thought, her secret having been discovered, but instead she felt strong and confident, as the seemingly flawless stranger expected her to be.

"I asked because I like you."

The older woman was surprised for only a moment, but before she could react the maid did what she had wanted to for most of their encounter. She grabbed the pale, graceful, perfectly-formed hand and placed it directly between her thighs.

The blonde smiled and slid her other hand along the maid's waist, raising it to massage a hardened nipple through thin white fabric. Mey-Rin cried out in pleasure, pulling the woman's head toward her own, and they kissed slowly at first, then more deeply and passionately.

Mey-Rin was shocked at how soft her lips were – this was nothing like kissing a man. The maid began to undress her partner, all while trying to prolong her own enjoyment as a deft hand slowly massaged her clit. Her jacket off and her blouse now properly undone, the stranger slipped a hand behind Mey-Rin's back and slowly lowered her onto the rock. They began kissing again, each one now exploring the other's mouth with her tongue.

The redhead moaned and threw her head back as her vagina began to contract. The older woman placed two fingers inside and curved them around, her motions in sync with the swirling of her tongue. The maid unclasped the stranger's bra, and wrapped each of her hands around a perfectly-formed breast. The older woman sighed and started moving her mouth down Mey-Rin's body. First the side of her chin, then onto her neck. While her left hand fondled one of the maid's nipples, her tongue worked on the other one, causing the younger woman to call out in ecstasy.

Mey-Rin was lost in pleasure, no longer knowing what to do with her hands, she allowed the skillful beauty to have her way with her. The woman's tongue caressed her nipple over and over again as her right hand continued to pound between the maid's legs. The pulsations inside Mey-Rin became more intense and frequent. She could feel the liquid dripping out of her, and finally the stranger's attention shifted from her breast.

The older woman moved her mouth over the redhead's stomach, kissing deftly and lightly. As she approached the warmth between the maid's legs, she slowed down, lingering below her waist. The movement of her hand decreased as well, causing Mey-Rin to bear down on her fingers, wanting more of them inside.

The maid was so close to coming. She wanted nothing more than the stranger's tongue on her clit, and she reached out for the other woman's head.

Before she knew what had happened, a strong hand grabbed her wrist and the blonde's face was again by Mey-Rin's chest. Three fingers on her right hand plunged deep inside, hard and fast, but stopped moving all together. At the same time her right foot dug itself into the young woman's injured ankle.

Mey-Rin cried out from the pain, but it only lasted a moment. She looked at her partner, confused.

" _Don't_ get greedy," the stranger scolded, her grey eyes flickering with amusement.

Again she curved her fingers around inside the maid, causing her prey to writhe with pleasure. She now wasted no time and buried her face between Mey-Rin's legs, her tongue making contact with the younger woman's engorged clitoris.

The redhead's thighs began to buck involuntarily as the woman's hand pounded into her. As her tongue picked up speed on the maid's clit, Mey-Rin felt the pressure building, and when she could stand no more, she released in the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced.

Breathless and covered in sweat, the maid reached for her partner, but after a slow, passionate kiss the other woman rose and began to dress.

"Wait, don't you want to get off too?" Mey-Rin asked, sitting up on the rock.

The blonde stranger smiled and approached her one last time.

"Don't worry darling, I will," she raised a gloved hand and ran it across the younger woman's cheek, then down below her chin, tilting her face up sharply as she had when they first met. "Were I to show up late, the impropriety could not be forgiven."

With that, she kissed her lover on the forehead and retreated in the direction of the manor, leaving the disheveled and bewildered maid in the company of the rushing stream and her own muddled thoughts.


End file.
